accordo
by vanilluxe
Summary: The sun and the moon come to a resolution. Daryan/Pearl drabbles.
1. Saudade

**Prompt: **Hurt  
**Pairing: **Daryan/Pearl (applies for all future stories unless otherwise stated)  
**Originally Written: **10.24.2008

"Yes, this is what good is: to forgive evil. There is no other good."  
-Antonio Porchia, Voces

Even though it had been a fleeting moment, they had actually met each other the last time she came down to visit Phoenix and Trucy. They had tagged along with Apollo and Klavier to the courthouse, where they saw him for whatever reason. The introduction was brief, to the point, and inaccurate, but she really couldn't be bothered to correct Klavier. Let him stay in his own world, et cetera, et cetera.

"This is Fräulein Trucy's friend, Fräulein Pretzel."

"It's Pearl," she protested weakly, in vain.

"Right, right. This is Daryan Crescend."

Forgetting normal customs, she lowered herself slightly in greeting and quickly moves away with Trucy, laughing at something she said. She never was good at meeting new people.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This day could not get any worse. Okay, so his car spontaneously broke down and he had to take a cab to work. Fine. Work was slower than it had been in months. Well, that was to be expected sometimes. But this, this just made him want to kick something, preferably living. It just had to start pouring the minute he started walking down the street. After five minutes of trying to find a taxi, he gave up. At this point he was shivering, teeth involuntarily chattering.

He was so lost that he didn't even hear the unfamiliar, feminine voice that was apparently calling for him.

"Um, Mr. Crescend...? Is that you?"

He turned his head to see the strange pretzel-haired girl he met the other day standing there, holding an umbrella and her head tilted to the side with curiosity. They simply stood there for a minute as he tried to remember her name; the last thing he wanted to do is give a bad impression by not even knowing her name.

"Oh, right. Pearl."

He swears that her eyes widen slightly. He must've looked pretty pathetic, walking in the pouring rain without an umbrella. He suddenly felt extremely self-conscious and there was an incredibly awkward silence between them.

"Um, you can have this, I don't really need it," she said quietly, extending the hand that was holding the umbrella. Was she crazy?

"What about you?"

The smallest of smiles lights up her face, and he had to say--she looked pretty cute when she was happy or any variation thereof. "Trust me, it's okay. I have to sit under below freezing waterfalls for three hours every day. I think I can take a little bit of rain."

Maybe it was just better not to ask. Gavin did mention that she was some psychic or something.

They started walking in utter silence, her head hanging low. She was apparently very shy or just not in a good mood.

"I'm not, um, good at talking to people..."

"I can see that."

She stifled a laugh, as if it was inappropriate to do so.

"I don't come down here too much. The last time was a couple of years ago, and I got lucky then. So...it's kind of like culture shock to me." She lifted her head slightly towards the sky, looking at the rain wistfully. "I used to spend a lot of time here when I was little, before...before..." Her breath hitched, and she turned away.

Something obviously happened to her a while ago that still shook her up. Nothing like that had happened to him and she was only what, sixteen? After regaining her composure, she started apologizing profusely, saying, "Well, it happened seven years ago. You would've thought I moved on...Nobody even believes me when I tell them what happened."

All he could do is listen, and he felt bad for it.

She started playing with the strange, comma-shaped stone hanging around her neck. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

She looked at him right in the eyes and he swore that his heart skipped a beat. "You're Mr. Gavin's friend, right?"

He thought about saying no, only because he didn't want her to think of him in conjunction with Gavin. Klavier tended to have that effect on people's ideas of him. But, against his better judgment, he sighed and said, "Yeah."

"He's a bit...full of himself."

"Yeah, and you only just met him. Think about all of the great experiences I have with him," he said with heavy sarcasm, and she nearly doubled over with laughter, wiping away the subsequent tears that streamed down her face.

"I like you, Daryan."

That's all he can think about now that he's in prison. Things that could've happened, things that could have been. All thanks to his stupidity and pitiful desperation, he threw somebody's admiration down the drain.

And yet, he still has an irrational hope that keeps disappointing him. Even if he doesn't make it out of here alive, he remembers what Klavier told him.

"Fraulein Pretzel called me and told me to tell you that she still thinks you're a good person. That was all."

It really would be easier if she just hated him.


	2. The Youth

**Prompt: **Fascinate  
**Originally Written: **10.15.2008

"Grown-ups never understand anything for themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them."  
-Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince, 1943

Sometimes he just can't help but think that she's utterly unreal.

The bridge from childhood to adolescence was apparently a wide one, or maybe that's just her personality. It really shouldn't matter; he's not supposed to be paying attention in the first place, even if she makes a show out of doing this that and the other in the courthouse when they're waiting for that defense attorney to come out. But watching her fool around with that magician girl is like watching a couple of oblivious six year olds.

Just as well. Growing up wasn't all that great anyway. But it still grates on his nerves that she has no sense of shame.

She starts laughing at something the magician says, and the other girl proceeds to take her hand, leading her elsewhere, away from the courthouse, away from him.

* * *

Contrary to what he might think, she notices.

Any other person may not feel it, but she has the gift of sensitivity, and she can feel when someone's eyes are on her, even if she can't see them. It's usually nothing more than a passing glance, usually when she and Trucy are making noise or being obnoxious. Trucy was pretty adamant about telling her who he was, and she almost expected her to know his name. But it didn't set off a single bell in her mind, and she had a pretty good memory.

She can't say for sure what he's probably thinking, but it most likely has something to do with the face that she acts like a little girl. The idea that a girl her age acting the way she does was nearly blasphemous in modern society. She's not self-conscious or anything; if she enjoys making a fool of herself, then she has every right to do so. She had been denied that right when it mattered most, and better late than never.

They're sitting in the defendant's lobby, talking about nothing in particular, waiting for Apollo and Klavier to finish doing something or other. The days of tagging along with Phoenix were starting to fade, the details becoming more and more blurry with each passing year. When they do come out, Trucy hops up and runs to join Apollo, motioning for her to come with them. Whenever her friend is with him, she tries to blend into the background, knowing that two Trucys would likely make Apollo's head explode. So she lets them bicker and fight like an old married couple.

"I'll be right there," she says, and Trucy shrugs her shoulders and continues to badger Apollo.

She frowns slightly once they leave and still sits there, thinking about a wide range of things, but she is avoiding the real problem that's bothering her.

She doesn't like it when he watches her.

He's finally at the top of the courthouse steps for the third time that day, and he feels like hurting the next person he sees. He doesn't count on that person being her, and she opens the door, completely lost within her own thoughts, not even noticing him there. When she does sense that someone's there--please don't look up--she looks up, of course, and her frown deepens.

"Oh, you," she mutters, still attached to whatever she was dwelling on.

"Me?"

"Yes, you, I know you. You're the one that keeps watching me for no reason."

_Well, shit, then,_ he thinks.

"Why are you so immature?"

She's distressed and doesn't have an answer readily available. It's a small wonder; when you're ambushed for something you believe to be completely harmless, it's hard not to react in a similar way.

"Is it bothering you?" she asks, completely honest and straight out serious.

He takes a step towards her, but she doesn't move. Maybe she can't. He doesn't care.

"Why can't you grow up?"

Her head tilts to the side, and she smiles very slowly, rendering him completely confused.

"Oh, I see." She's almost directly underneath him now, and he realizes that she's almost impossibly short for her age. "You know, Mr. Crescend, you're about as inconspicuous as I am. You have no idea who I am; if you get a hint, then maybe I'll tell you why. I'll see you around."

He watches her leave to join her friends, and he just can't decipher that girl.


	3. Empty Words

**Warnings: **Implied sex.  
**Prompt: **Desperate  
**Originally Written: **10.21.2008

"I will lie awake,  
Lie for fun and fake the way I hold you,  
Let you fall for every empty word I say."  
_-Brand New, "Me. Vs. Maradona vs. Elvis" __  
_  
She's moping around for some reason or the next.

He doesn't know the entire story, but it definitely has something to do with that twisted family of hers, and he promised that he wouldn't press the subject when she showed up in the pouring rain outside his apartment. How she found out where he lived, he doesn't know. Daryan had just sighed and told her to follow him, and she had nodded, sniffling and wiping her eyes.

Her arm hangs over the sofa, her face buried into the armrest. Her clothes dried a while ago. The only thing she's said since coming in was, "Sorry."

Kind of late for that, though.

It's nearing one in the morning, and he thinks that Pearl's family will be looking all over the place for her. If they manage to find her here, it'll mean deep trouble for him. So why is he still keeping her here? He hardly even knows her beyond the polite 'hello-how are you-fine' deal. She isn't especially different from any other girl he's met or knows. At the least, she could tell him what had happened to make her run away from home.

He gets out of the shower and tells her tiredly, "It's almost one, girly. You need to go back home."

She doesn't say anything, and he wonders if she can even talk at all.

Pearl doesn't blame him for putting her on the spot. She showed up, sobbing in what was practically hale, at Daryan Crescend's home when she barely even knew the guy. But she just didn't know where else to go where she wouldn't be pressured to say what happened or with someone calling the police or worse; Maya.

No matter how much she wants to forget, she won't be able to forget the conversation—more of an argument than anything—they exchanged before she took off from Kurain.

_"Iris was released from prison a couple days, you know," Maya said casually, walking away from the bathroom, squeezing the excess dampness from her hair. __Pearl looked up from her book. "What?" __"Yeah, she's coming back to Hazakurain—" __"No!" Pearl leapt to her feet and strode over to her cousin. "How could you let her come back? After everything she's done? After what happened six years ago?" Her blood pressure started to sky rocket, the bitter memories coming back. She loathed her half sisters, and even if Iris was the lesser of two evils she'd never forgive them for hurting Phoenix, Maya, and herself most of all. __"Pearl, that's all done and over with. There's not much else we can do except to move on. It's not like we can prevent her from coming back," Maya pointed out, not a hint of emotion in her eyes. How could she not care? "She's your sister. Don't you think you should forgive her?" __There was an argument in the distance; Pearl could practically taste it. "She's not my sister. She'll never be my sister. And if you're willing to let her come back even after knowing her loyalty to Dahlia, then I'll leave," she said in all seriousness, not prepared to go back on her word. Maya merely smiled, almost condescendingly. __"Please, Pearl, you don't mean that. Just wait till she comes back—" __There were no words after that; only the sharp, stinging sound of a slap. __"You…you know, I never asked to be born into this stupid family. But no, I just have to carry on the Fey tradition of spirit channeling, while never having a chance to do anything myself. Well you know what? Screw this family! I don't want to be associated with it anymore! Don't you think we've had enough shame since what happened with your first 'channeling'?" she screamed, letting emotions she had bottled for much too long spill out, and she savored the broken expression on her cousin's face. __She stole money for the train, and swore that she'd never have anything to do with the Feys ever again, even if she knew that she wouldn't in a million years be able to make it on her own. __  
_  
"You. Girly. You need to go now. I'm not into babysitting."

She grimaces, biting her lower lip. There's nowhere else to go; Phoenix would definitely call Maya, and she doesn't know anyone else who lives here at the moment. Apollo and Klavier just had something about them that made Pearl not really suspicious, but not trusting either. They seemed to be the kind of people who would just dump you onto the next person as if you were nothing more than a troublesome problem.

Maybe that was exactly what she was.

When he sees that she's not going to be leaving soon, he rolls his eyes and walks over to her on the sofa, and she hugs her knees to her chest, almost afraid of him (if that makes any sense in the current situation, that is). Her eyes are still red from crying, and she looks so miserable, so lost that he almost feels guilty for trying to dispose of her like garbage.

She was running away from home. There was obviously a much bigger picture, but that really didn't look like it mattered at the moment.

He sits down next to her and holds his head in his hand, trying to think of a course of action that won't make her any more upset. Pearl looks away, no doubt ashamed at the state she's being seen in. Well, if she wanted to mope privately she could've gone elsewhere, right? Still, if he understands her thought process, she didn't want to be pressed for details.

But it's strange; she knows Klavier, right? If anybody knows about family being a bitch, it's him. And from what he sees, Pearl admires him a lot more than she does Daryan. Even if he was annoying, he could help a lot more in this situation than Daryan could.

"Is it really that bad where you can't tell anyone?"

"Because they'll make me go home!"

He looks at the floor, almost driven into a corner. "So it's that bad, huh?"

She relaxes slightly and puts her dainty hands on her lap. She regains some of her composure, but she still won't look at him. "You don't know all the strings attached…the kinds of things that happened because of me. Everything's my fault…" she whispers sadly, closing her eyes. "Had it not been for me, my mother wouldn't have tried to kill my cousin, and nothing that's happening now would occur. The Feys would've been so much better off without me."

That settles it; he was a lot better off not asking, because now he feels uncontrollable pity for the girl sitting next to him. He's so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he doesn't know that she's moving closer to him, a lot closer than it should be—

His thoughts are cut off completely when she kisses him (albeit completely off the mark, supposedly).

No, she doesn't know what she's doing, and every fiber of her being is telling her to stop. For the love of God, she doesn't even know what she's supposed to be doing!

It feels strange, because she doesn't love him; she doesn't even like him. Maya had always taught her to only do something like this with someone she really loved. And even though she was doing something inexcusable, unforgivable even, she's really in no position to be making rational decisions. Pearl knows that he'll probably push her away and practically drag her out, calling her insane and many other choice words.

But much to her shock—and maybe even horror—he's not pulling away. He interrupts for a minute and hisses, "You can't do this."

She frowns; she has no idea what to say to that, because he's right; she can't do this. She opens her mouth to say something, but immediately closes it again because she looks like a fool, if she doesn't look like one already.

She's satisfied for the time being, but Daryan apparently can't let it go, or something's wrong with him because he's not moving away. She tries to move away slowly, but she feels his arm slip around her waist, and she feels panic like never before and regret that she even initiated something like this, which was bound to grow into something else that she really didn't want to think about.

But she can't bring herself to say no, because she wants so much to forget about everything that she's willing to do anything.

He leans over, prompting her to lie down to allow more movement, and her comfort level is decreasing at an alarming rate. There's no going back at this point; the damage has already been done.

What the fuck is he doing?

This is against the law, this is wrong, this is going to hurt her more than it will help her, and yet he can't bring himself to stop. No one is going to find out; this will just be a skeleton in the closet, something that he can easily sweep under the rug as long as she doesn't tell anyone, and she's not really in a position to tell anyone of what happens this night.

He forfeits all possible protection when he takes off her robe and undoes the strings on the back of her dress, and she sheds it without even looking at him. It's painfully clear that she doesn't want to do this, that it was split second mistake in the first place and nothing more should be brought about from it. She swallows, a blush rising to her cheeks as he takes off his own shirt.

He thinks about telling her that it doesn't help to be nervous, but words would damage the already delicate situation; he conveniently ignores the fact that there's nothing more he can possibly do to hurt her when she initially came to him for protection and gave him her trust; the trust that he is throwing away now.

It hurts a lot more than she thought it would when they're finally getting to the point of the whole thing. She bites her lip so hard that it bleeds so that she won't cry again.

_It hurts, it hurts, it hurts… __Help me, Maya… _

Nobody can help her now, because she knows that she's the one who caused this, and that she's only getting what she deserves. After a few minutes of trying to at least get mildly comfortable, she decides that it feels kind of good, a lot better than the beginning. And still, there's that nagging guilt, tortured with the fact that she will never be able to erase this event from the record of her life.

And all because she was a desperate little girl, running away from problems that were smaller than the ones that this would create.


	4. Remember To Feel Real

**Prompt: **Feel  
**Originally Written: **10.31.2008

"I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!"  
-Emily Bronte, _Wuthering Heights_

Was she really dead? Everything felt so…_surreal_. She was still on earth, to be sure, but no one could see her and she couldn't move from the spot where she died. Wasn't she supposed to ascend to Heaven or something? In all honesty, even though she was a spirit medium she couldn't tell for sure what was really there in the afterlife. Pearl had merely assumed that there was a Heaven and a Hell. No one had told her otherwise, so she had been left to her own devices.

And now, the very notion that you could do nothing after death save for watch the world go by was incredibly depressing, even if she doubted that she could feel anything.

* * *

Un-fucking-believable.

The police who were investigating the mysterious occurrence of a girl washing up on the shore of southern Los Angeles automatically assumed it was a homicide. Sure, there was a lack of anything particularly engaging as of late, but that didn't mean they had to jump to conclusions and completely rule out suicide. There were a few sane people who had some doubts, and that included him, but they were usually drowned out by the morons.

It had been about a week into the investigation—which was turning up fruitless, of course—when interesting rumors started circulating around the precinct about locals reporting strange things happening around the crime scene; an abnormal pattern of wind, weather that was radically different from the rest of the area, and the ocean was more violent than usual. People were reading way too much into this. Weirder stuff happened before, why was this getting any special attention?

So Daryan Crescend went there by himself to disprove the belief that anything supernatural was going on, not suspecting that there was a possibility he could have been wrong.

* * *

After a week—or was it two?—of aimlessly walking around, Pearl wanted desperately to be able to talk to someone. Whenever she tried to leave the area, there was something like an invisible barrier that wouldn't let her pass. She had tried again that morning, but it was the same thing. Frowning, she merely shoved her hands inside her jean pockets and walked along the shore. Dead at the tender young age of eighteen. How lovely.

She had left Kurain to establish her own life once she was of age, with Maya's approval. Of course, she was still a spirit medium, and when a job needed to get done Maya would often call on her for help. And now that she had just started her life—her normal life, anyway—that had all been thrown away. Her memory of the incident was blurry, but she believed that she had been taking a walk when she started falling, looking up vacantly at the bridge above her. She hadn't really considered that it would be the last thing she saw with living eyes.

Pearl had been taught to embrace death, but she found herself hating it more and more every day.  


* * *

She had seen many people from the police come and go, but everyone else had been barred from the crime scene. It was slightly amusing to watch the police do their work, completely oblivious of her presence. Every now and then someone would mention feeling something strange, but the rest of the team would dismiss them as looking too much into the situation. Ghosts aren't real, what are you talking about, that kind of drivel.

Taking all of this into account, she was justifiably shocked when she saw someone else coming towards her—or from their perspective, the general vicinity. He didn't look like a regular person, but he wasn't there when the police were probing around. So who was this guy? Shifting her weight to her other leg, Pearl didn't see the big issue with it anyway; even if she wanted to, there wasn't anything she could do to prevent this guy from coming here. Still, she couldn't bring herself to stop staring at his hair…If only spirits had telepathic or telekinetic powers, she'd have a field day with it.

Pearl thought all of this, but really? She was nothing more than a depressed, bored ghost who had nothing better to do.

* * *

Jesus Christ, he could not be seeing what he thought he was seeing. This had to be because of a lack of sleep or something, because there was no way this girl could be alive and kicking when he had seen her dead body, cold and certainly not breathing.

Still, here she was, staring absently at the ocean, her jacket flapping in the wind and her arms folded neatly across her small chest.

There was no mistaking that this was the same Pearl Fey that the news had reported, but…there was definitely something different about her. She looked older than eighteen. There was an almost disheartened cynicism in her eyes, if there was anything there at all. For all Daryan knew, she could've been a statue.

She looked up, the same eyes widening. Apparently, he had thought too soon.

Pearl must've sensed that he was able to see her, because she looked absolutely mortified and said very loudly, "Hey, you can see me?!"

"Wait a second, you're _real_?" This whole thing was confusing him way too much. There was no such thing as ghosts or spirits or whatever other fancy name you gave them. But to the best of his memory, he hadn't done any drugs or drinking in the past few days, and he wasn't particularly overworked or tired. The implausibility of it all just served to frustrate him.

Surprisingly, she grinned brightly and said, "That's…That's great! I've been here for two weeks and I saw people, but imagine what it's like not being able to talk to them or even being seen by them! I guess that's a disadvantage of being dead."

Sweet Jesus, was this girl touched in the head?

He looked away, absolutely not believing that he was talking to thin air. "You're the girl who died. Pearl Fey, right?"

Her expression changed for the briefest of moments to mild curiosity, but returned to its previous euphoric state. "Y-Yeah. Um, who are you…?"

"Tell me who you _really_ are first, and then maybe I'll consider telling you."

Pearl frowned and chewed on a nail. "Oh…well, there's not much to say. If you want to know how I died, I can't really remember very clearly. The only thing I can remember is taking a walk on that bridge and then falling."

This was obviously going nowhere and it was getting there fast. Daryan decided to just screw the useless talk. "Look, why are you here? Revenge, or something? Did someone kill you? Why don't you leave?"

"I can't leave! Don't you think I would've done that already? I would've gone to my cousin! She can talk to spirits…As hard as it is to believe," she shouted, visibly upset. "You've heard the name Maya Fey before, right?"

"Can't say that I have. I don't see—"

"There's no point in you being here. You're probably just going to go home and forget that this ever happened, right? Because if you can't see it, it's not real. That's what most people believe, anyway, and I wouldn't be surprised if that was how you felt." Her voice had dropped to a whisper, and she was staring at the sand beneath her feet. He assessed the situation in front of him. There was such a thing as Heaven, right? So why was this girl here? Why did she have to be bound to the earth that she was allegedly supposed to leave once she was done with her business?

"I'm a detective," he said slowly, not wanting her to think that he was just some random person who happened to be able to see her. "You're the flavor of the week at the precinct."

Pearl looked surprised at this, which meant that they were essentially in the same boat. "Really?"

"They think someone killed you." It felt too weird trying to talk to a dead person, even if he was able to carry out an otherwise normal conversation with her. There was no way people would think he had any credibility if he claimed to have talked to the victim _after_ she died.

"What? Are you serious? I don't remember how I died, but I know that no one killed me!" She looked understandably frustrated, her arms folded across her chest again. He wondered just how difficult it must have been for her to stay here without being able to talk to anyone. Just the idea of that happening to himself was disconcerting, to say the least.

He sighed and looked at her straight in the eye and noticed that she looked vaguely familiar, like a face he had seen in the newspapers before she died. "You're saying that your cousin can help you out with this?" he asked, having nothing else to talk to her about.

Pearl nodded, then added as an afterthought, "You…don't believe in Heaven or anything like that, do you?"

Raising an eyebrow, Daryan didn't see how that had to do with anything. "Why does it matter?"

"Well, typically, people who do believe in _something _like that can't see spirits. It's usually the skeptics who are able to see them. My cousin's an exception, of course, but it doesn't actually matter, but I thought I'd point that out."

"Right, right." There was an awkward silence before he announced his departure, and he couldn't deny having seen the dejectedness in her eyes again.

* * *

"I don't think I can help you, Detective. Even if she was bound to the earth, there's no way I could actually talk to her without channeling. And she has to have gone to whatever afterlife in order for me to do that. So…if you're really able to see and talk to her, you need to tell her that for me. And tell her that I miss her, too.

Oh, this was just great. What was he supposed to do now? The one request Pearl had given him, he wasn't able to go through with. Angrily slamming the phone down onto its receiver, he realized that he was a lot more stressed than he thought he was. This was completely unnecessary; he wasn't obligated to do anything for her, and yet he felt compelled to. And why? Was it because she was dead? He didn't even know for sure if that encounter hadn't been a dream or a hallucination. It went against everything he had ever been taught, everything he _believed _in. Daryan wasn't sure if he even wanted to believe what had happened. Maybe that was the only reason he was doubting it at all.

People saw how disturbed he was, but they mostly left him to his own business. Klavier was really the only one who actually brought the subject up.

"You're very out of your element lately, Daryan. It can't be because of the girl who died, is it?" he asked after leaving the courthouse the day after the phone call to Maya Fey. Even though he was involved exclusively in International Affairs, this case was so enigmatic and unbending that they even had to enlist his help.

"You heard about that too, huh?" he said tiredly, having mulled over this far too much.

Klavier didn't look right either, indicated by the nervous darting of his eyes. "Not a single person knows what happened. It very well could've been a suicide, it could've been a homicide—especially with the time of death—but it appears as though no one will ever really know. Even I can't figure anything out for this one." He shrugged his shoulders slowly, staring at the cloudy sky. A few drops of rain started to come down. "It's sad that things like this happen, but I suppose they're part of life. Unless we finally figure out a way to talk to the dead, this case is better off closed."

* * *

Even though she had asked him to contact Maya for her, Pearl had deeply doubted that he'd ever come back. Coming to grips with the fact that she'd be here for the rest of eternity wasn't easy, and she still couldn't completely wrap her head around the concept. Honestly, it'd be so much easier if she had someone there with her, even if they just came by every now and then. It would make the days that much more bearable.

When he did come back, she was beyond thrilled. She hadn't noticed him at first, mostly because she was too busy feeling sorry for herself and staring off into space, but minutes passed and he impatiently cleared his throat to grab her attention.

She put an awkward hand up in greeting and said, "Hey."

"Um, hi."

"Did you—?"

He folded his arms across his chest and looked irritated. He was hard to read, and Pearl thought of herself as perceptive in comparison to the rest of her family and friends. "Yeah, I called that cousin of yours, and she said that there wasn't anything she could do. You didn't go to the afterlife, and that pretty much means she can't talk to you."

Well, then. Crushed was the only accurate word that could possibly describe what she was feeling. But that…that couldn't have been right. Maya was a spirit medium, the master of Kurain and the head of the Fey family, no less! How in the world was this beyond Maya's ability? She was more skilled than Pearl could ever hope to have been! She could feel herself growing angrier and angrier at the situation in general, and irrationally mad at Maya for not being able to help. She would've thought her cousin would've been more enthusiastic about helping than just shrugging her shoulders and saying, 'Sorry, there's nothing I can do, I guess Pearl's just gonna have to stay this way.'

Shaking her head in disbelief, she merely said quietly, "There's nothing that can be done, I guess…" She wanted nothing more to scream to the sky, to tell the entire world that everything they had believed in all along was nothing more than a damn lie and that there was no Heaven. There was nothing you could do after death besides watch the fucking world go by!

"Hey, are you alright?"

She had been so absorbed in her own thoughts that she hadn't even noticed him waving his hand at her, trying to wake her up from her own little world. Resting a hand on her cheek, she apologized and said, "I'm sorry, but of all the people I trust she turns out to be the one who can't help at all…" It finally occurred to her that she didn't know his name. "Hey, what's your name, anyway?"

"I thought I—never mind, I'm Daryan."

"Is that right? I think I've heard your name before…" She quickly shook her head, knowing that this was totally insignificant small talk. "Um, you can go now, I guess. There's not much else to do, right?"

Daryan didn't say anything, but just walked over to her in her normal spot. She quirked an eyebrow and asked slowly, "What's wrong?"

He looked contemplative for a minute, considering what to say next, apparently. "So…"

"So? What?" Tilting her head to side, Pearl narrowed her eyes, she was immediately suspicious of what Daryan was doing. He definitely had an ulterior motive for coming here. She just wasn't sure if she wanted to find out what the ulterior motive was.

"I'm just wondering if I'm crazy for talking to dead people."

"W-What? Well, you can think you're crazy, if you want, but I'm real…"

And this was where she finally realized that she might not be real at all.

The terrified expression on Pearl's face told Daryan that maybe she wasn't so sure. It seemed real enough, but then again people were locked away in mental institutions for saying this out loud.

Maybe the word 'real' was objective depending on who you talked to. Who was to say that something existed and another didn't?

She sighed, resting her head on her hand. "There's no way to be sure now that you brought it up. Thanks a lot."

"But am I wrong? Fuck, Pearl, you're _dead_. Dead people aren't supposed to keep going on like nothing happened."

Her mouth opened to say something, but she quickly shut it and instead took a step backwards, staring at the ground. "You're right…but if I could go on like nothing happened…then why can't I leave this place? Why can't I talk to people like I can talk to you? Why can't they see me?" she asked, her voice much lower than before. "Dead people can't be seen by the living, but they're also not supposed to stay on earth. Something went wrong, and somehow both happened." She frowned and shifted her weight to the other leg, probably trying to anticipate his reaction.

There really wasn't a point in him being here; she was much better off being alone. He couldn't help the fact that he was still so skeptical and kept making her feel uncomfortable. Either this was an elaborate illusion…

Or Pearl Fey really was here, trying to avoid an awkward silence.

* * *

After Daryan left, Pearl thought that she'd finally have the peace she deserved. Where did he get off questioning every little thing, anyway? Some things are better left unexplained, Maya had told her, and that was too true in this situation. She'd never say the real reason she didn't want him to come back.

He had made her question her very existence, if everything around her was real or not. Leaving her in distress like that wasn't the best thing to do, either, but she knew that she couldn't rely on him. People too often turned their backs on the supernatural. She had come to terms with that. Even if her very upbringing was all about the unseen, she couldn't expect other people to think like that. Hugging her knees to her chest, she watched the waves come and go, wishing that she had been brought up normal. At least Maya could adapt easily to her environment; Pearl, on the other hand, had a much more difficult time.

Going deeper into contemplation, she wondered if that barrier between this area and the outside world was still there. She didn't get her hopes up; there was no reason that it would lift today when yesterday it was just as determined to not let her through. Even with all her years of training, she didn't know why she couldn't leave, but thinking about it brought something to mind. Maya had told her that if there had been unfinished business, the spirit would have a more difficult time going to the afterlife.

Pearl didn't even want to know what that meant. There wasn't anything that she'd call 'unfinished business' unless you counted not saying goodbye to the people she loved, but the vast majority of the world couldn't do that when they died. Nothing else came to mind when she went over the days before her death. Then again, maybe something just went wrong and she couldn't go to the afterlife. She had been too young to be a master on the subject of death.

If something could change…


	5. The Universal Lie

**Prompt: **Never  
**Originally Written: **11.9.2008

"In reality, hope is the worst of all evils, because it prolongs man's torments."  
-Friedrich Nietzsche,_ Human, All Too Human_

Pearl still hopes.

Even when there are signs that say otherwise, she's always hoping that maybe he'll start noticing her. She recognizes that she's not the most extraordinary of girls, and that maybe Miss Skye really is more interesting than her. There's nothing she can do about that; she refuses to jump through hoops or change who she is to cater to someone, no matter how much she loved them.

The fact that it will likely never be hurts more than it should. Pearl had resigned herself to the fact that most of the time things like this ended in nothing but self-torment and sadness. She was too young to really understand the concept of love, anyway.

Still, hope is her greatest downfall.


	6. Dust And Ashes

**Prompt: **Admit  
**Originally Written: **12.12.2008

"_And I'm nothing more  
Than a line in your book…"_

She can't admit to herself that it's over.

She's finally come home to lessen the burden on Trucy and Phoenix. The last thing she wanted to do was expose them to her sole weakness—her foolish attachment to people. This was something that Maya had neglected to teach her, although there had always been that familiar nagging feeling that pain was imminent. She shouldn't be surprised, let alone sad_. _But did he really have to abandon her now, when she was tottering on the verge of teenage insanity? He couldn't have wanted to watch her fall, but she _did_ fall.

And she doesn't want to admit to herself that he didn't do anything except to watch, making sure he kept his distance all the while she was silently screaming for help. She had honestly thought he understood her better than anyone else, and while that may have been true, it didn't mean anything in the end. She's such an insignificant aspect of his life—or rather, she _had_ been—and she had been so stupidly starstruck that she had been blinded to the fact that things were falling apart before her very eyes. She had pleaded for him to give her a second chance, and she begged to know, was it her? Was it him? Was it someone else? If she was supposed to have a chance of cushioning the collision, she needed to know where the cogs stopped turning.

But he didn't tell her. He had only looked away reluctantly, debating on what to say or do. Either way, things had been so terribly marred and bruised that they were well beyond saving. And that wasn't even taking the question of whether he—they—had wanted to save them into account. She only closed her eyes, wiped her forehead, and said the words that are stilled glued to the back of her mind, taunting her for making such a cowardly statement.

"_We're just too different."_

It was a copout, of course. It was an excuse, dressed up to make it seem like she had predicted things would end this way all along, when it couldn't be farther from the truth. The internal warfare that's being waged in her mind at this moment is worrying even Maya, although her cousin and supposed caretaker knows better than to disturb her 'quiet reflection time,' where she sits facing the mountains, hugging her knees to her chest. She wonders if that copout worked—he always had been under the impression that she was just some fortune teller rather than a spirit medium. When he pointed out how strange she was, she had simply stuck her tongue out and said, "You're no more normal than I am."

It's painful. It's more painful than anything she's ever experienced, in all honesty. The events of Hazakurain couldn't measure up to this, if only because she was too young to grasp what was going on in the heat of the moment. It's stupid, she tells herself, to be so upset over something as trivial as a man. But he had been so much more than just a man to her, hadn't he? He had been everything she had ever looked for—someone to confide in. A _friend_. She hadn't known that, growing up in such a desolate place like Kurain. He had been something entirely foreign to her. How had she let that slip so easily from her grasp, like sand seeping through the cracks of an outstretched palm?

When Maya takes a seat next to her on the porch, she's prepared to be as cold and distant as it takes to be left alone. She refuses to relate the elaborate story of what exactly happened between them to her cousin. The last thing she needs at the moment is to be judged and scolded for not saying such-and-such at this time or the other. Couldn't she be trusted to sift through her own problems by herself?

"Do you want me to leave?" Maya asks earnestly, her normal playful self stowed away for a more appropriate time.

"I don't care." Her voice is dry, raspy; she can't tell if it's because of the prolonged hours of silence or the ceaseless bouts of sobbing that seemed to visit her these days.

She feels herself being pulled close to Maya's chest, cradled like a young girl again. It's a more welcome sensation than she's willing to acknowledge. She's trying so hard to be strong, she can feel her own defenses wavering, even if they're down at the moment. She pulls closer to her cousin, taking a few shaky breaths.

"Sometimes, it's better just to admit that it's done and move on," Maya says quietly, rocking back and forth. "At least you could say to all his fangirls that _you_ were with him and they weren't."

She laughs in spite of herself, or maybe because of herself. It all seems too ridiculous at times; between the intervals of pain, there are times where she looks back and shakes her head, thinking that it isn't worth it to devote so much attention to something that will ultimately be reduced to dust, and blow away with the winds of her own actions.

And now, she can let go.


	7. Something Foreign

**Prompt: **Dance  
**Originally Written: **1.3.2009

"Dancing is wonderful training for girls, it's the first way you learn to guess what a man is going to do before he does it."  
-Christopher Morley, _Kitty Foyle_

"Come here, your hair's messed up…"

"For God's sake, Trucy, we have to leave in five minutes! I don't really care about how messed up my hair is!"

Well, they didn't _have_ to leave in five minutes; they could be fashionably late, but Trucy somehow doubted that Apollo would approve of that idea. Having an obsessive-compulsive personality didn't really affect their social affairs in a positive way. Still, he was her 'date' of sorts to this little…party kind of thing that the County Public Prosecutor's Office held every New Year's Eve. She looked at Pearl, who was pulling on the hem of her rather short black dress, which flattered her developing figure very nicely. Trucy had sprung this on the poor girl only a few days before while she was still in Kurain, minding her own sweet business. Since then, Pearl came down to Los Angeles, unloaded her things at their house, and flipped out about not having anything to wear. For someone who came down to the city twice a year, tops, she was very in tune with typical teenage life.

Trucy herself wasn't really all that concerned with her appearance for that evening, wearing a simple white blouse and black skirt. To compensate for the simple outfit, she had put on a decent amount of makeup. Pearl gushed about how good she looked, yet she wouldn't let Trucy say anything remotely positive about her. Where that girl received her inferiority complex, she'd never know. She was effortlessly phenomenal at anything she did, her personality was everything anyone could ever ask for; she was basically the epitome of perfect. She'd deny such a claim, but it was true.

"Alright, are you ready?" Pearl asked, sighing heavily. She had put her gold hoop earrings in, got her high heeled shoes on, and looked absolutely stunning. Trucy couldn't help but feel that the guys would be all over her like flies to fruit. Trying to imagine Pearl willfully dancing with men—who were probably much older than her—was enough to make Trucy laugh out loud. Despite hormones being rampant at sixteen years old, the once sheltered girl was instantly repelled by men, most likely from being taught that they were the weaker sex. From what she said, Morgan Fey wasn't the best of mothers.

Trucy smiled and said, "Yep, I'm ready if you are!"

Pearl beamed in response, looking for all the world like a goddess.

"Tell me again, Gavin, why exactly do I have to come to this thing?"

Klavier shook his head, playing with his hair. "No one said you had to come, Daryan, but you'd be the only one who wasn't coming," he said teasingly, knowing that the detective placed his reputation before many other things. Probably even his career. Klavier really wasn't in a position to criticize that aspect of Daryan's personality, because he too shared that trait. That didn't matter right now, though; this was an event reserved for people attached with the law somehow, even if it was an obscure attachment. Hence why Herr Forehead's friends were coming. To be honest, he wasn't sure who he wanted to hit on more; Fräulein Detective or Fräulein Trucy. The former would be more socially acceptable, considering Trucy was nine years his junior.

The sad thing was that he was actually thinking about this.

"That's great and everything, but I have better things to do," Daryan grumbled, fixing his already-straight tie. Unlike Klavier, he wasn't used to formal affairs and looked extremely out of his element. It was highly amusing to watch, and it would be even more hilarious once they actually got to the talking and mingling part involving other human beings.

Daryan was a special one, that was for sure, and that was alright with Klavier.

It's not that she was nervous. Really. There really wasn't a reason to be scared of going to a party with hundreds of people, most of them twice her age. Trucy would be there with her, after all.

Trucy was the crutch of her life, the one person she could talk to in any circumstance, from the small inconveniences to the huge catastrophes. She'd keep the fact that she loved her in more way than one a secret forever. Who knew if Trucy swung that way? Pearl wasn't about to risk a beautiful friendship for something that would probably end up in bitterness and broken hearts, anyway.

Sticking close by her friend—crush?—Pearl entered the hall feeling oh-so-intimidated. For all anybody knew, she could've been a person who never in her life saw more than five people in a place all at once. Her dress felt too short, her jewelry overdone, and all the details she had been so meticulous about suddenly seemed scandalous. Keeping close by Trucy and Apollo, she cautiously followed them from behind until she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Touching did not sit well with her, and Klavier Gavin soon found out what happened when people did touch her.

Daryan decided that he liked her the moment he watched her shove Gavin away, gripping her shoulder as though he had tossed acid on it.

Sure, she was hot, but if she didn't swoon over the pretty German boy that just scored her extra points. It didn't even cross his mind that she just might not like the feeling of other people on her skin.

She spun around to see her friend's horrified expression, and she apparently reasoned that she must've done something wrong. After having something whispered in her ear by said friend, she started apologizing profusely to Klavier, looking for all the world like she just murdered someone.

So she really didn't like to be touched.

Still, she looked nice enough. It was cute how she started to hide behind her friend in shame, still guilty after what she had done to Klavier. Her head was buried in the crook of her friend's neck, trying to hide her embarrassment.

He never did like outspoken girls.

"Don't worry about it, Pearl! He said it was okay! You're overreacting."

Trucy was dearly trying to convince her friend that she had done nothing wrong and that it was just a mistake, but Pearl wouldn't hear any of it. That defeated look on her face was killing Trucy's mood very, very quickly. She began to wonder if it was a good idea to bring the painfully shy girl here in the first place.

"But—"

Trucy frowned. "No buts! Come on, someone's looking at you," she pointed out, averting her eyes to Klavier's confidante. What was his name again? Daryan Crescend? His otherwise ridiculous hair was down, making him seem a little less rebellious, if that made any sense. Guys like him went against the system all too often—especially if they worked for it.

Pearl turned her head slowly, the mortification on her face clearer than anything else. Hell, Trucy would much rather have shock over fear any day. The spirit medium was gorgeous regardless, but surprise illuminated her features. The idea of talking to anyone after that incident was too unbearable.

"Trucy…"

"Come on, Pearly! Live a little!" She turned her head to look at Klavier, who was motioning for her to hurry their chat up. "You'll do fine, I know it! Go charm him with your wits!" She roughly pushed Pearl towards Daryan, not looking back to see the expression of terror on her face as she crashed into him.

He wasn't even looking when she tumbled and unceremoniously landed against his back.

Spinning around, he saw that she was staring at the ground, pulling on the hem of her dress, whispering, "Sorry." She turned her head to look at her friend, who had run off with Klavier, blatantly euphoric by the German's attention. Frowning, she looked back at him and tried to make eye contact. She failed, miserably at that.

"What's with that look?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. She wasn't just shy—she was borderline xenophobic.

She looked up and recoiled. "Ah, I'm just not…um…used to being in such crowded places. I'm not good at talking to people," she stuttered, still looking away.

He didn't have time to respond, because she had taken his wrist and dragged him over to the dance floor as the music started. Shocked at this brash advance, he played along for fear of incurring the girl's wrath. She was tortured enough as it was, he didn't need to make things worse.

"So tell me your name," she began, wrapping her arms around his neck. It suddenly felt slightly too hot in the room, but he was interested in what he could learn from this exchange.

"Daryan," he managed before clearing his throat and talking more like an adult than a hormone-ridden teenager. "Daryan Crescend."

She nodded, the smallest of smiles playing on her lips. "Mr. Crescend, friend of…Mr Gavin." Her head tilted slightly to the side. "Unless what Trucy's been telling me is wrong."

"Trucy…that's the one who ran off with Klavier."

"Amazing. You could be a detective, you know."

He inwardly cringed. "I am a detective."

Just that one statement completely shattered the somewhat calm composure she was managing to uphold. He suddenly felt as though he would've been much better off if he had kept his mouth shut. "Whoa, calm down, it's alright," he tried to assure her, but she was too far gone.

It occurred to him that he didn't even know her name.

"Hey, you didn't tell me your name."

She chewed on the inside of her lip and looked away nervously. "Pearl Fey," was her quiet response, still embarrassed.

It was a pretty enough name, Daryan resolved, and vaguely familiar, at that. Now, what could he do to make her come out of that shell of hers?

Pearl spoke before he had the opportunity to do so. "How do you know Mr. Gavin, anyway?" She looked as though she was trying to remember something from a long time ago, but was disappointed when she couldn't bring it up.

"Oh God, don't even ask that."

"Why not?"

"We're bandmates, if that helps."

"Bandmates?"

Was this girl living under a rock? Now that he thought about it, she didn't seem particularly interested in Gavin or his identity. If their concert turnout was anything to go by, every high schooler had at least heard of them.

Before going any further, he decided that it was better to know who she was.

"Where do you live?"

She raised her eyebrows apologetically, staring at her feet. "You wouldn't know about it. Nobody does."

This girl seriously needed to stop feeling so unconfident in everything she did and said. Her turbulent self-esteem was starting to have a negative effect on his own confidence.

"You learn something new every day?"

She smiled.

He made her smile. He, the notoriously cynical guy, had made her smile. There was an inexplicable sense of pride in this accomplishment, as though he had actually lured her away from her own little world, her shelter from embarrassment. He'd be the first to admit he wasn't really popular compared to the rest of the pretty boys in the band, but maybe this was a chance to take advantage of her lack of knowledge about him.

He could just be himself, and hell, that's all he really wanted.

She decided that she liked Daryan Crescend, even if she probably didn't impress him. So she kept talking to him, overcoming her own fears to open herself to someone else. She had been so afraid of rejection that she sacrificed the opportunity to be happy in doing so.  
There was no definitive way to tell if it was a mutual attraction, but if it was, the reasons were clear.

They weren't afraid to try.


End file.
